


Send me an Angel

by bvckybcrnes



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Branding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Violence, Prisoner Graves, Runaway Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9202748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bvckybcrnes/pseuds/bvckybcrnes
Summary: A severely hurt Graves knows he needs to get up, but the pain when he tries to do so is almost unbearable. He begins to hallucinate and sees Grindelwald taunting him. Somehow this gives him the motivation to haul himself up and get to safety...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=1394336#cmt1394336).
> 
> All spelling and grammar mistakes are my own.

It had happened. The day had come. Gellert Grindelwald was nowhere to be seen or found in his very own hide-out. The guy was most likely framing his prisoner for yet another day. It left Percival Graves with an excellent chance to try and attempt a second escape ever since he was being held captive.

Grindelwald liked to keep his prisoner in a shed nearby the large mansion where he found a stay. It was cold in there and when it rains, it'd leak inside. The wind went right through the old, rotting wood walls of the small construction and it was the home to many, many rats and mice. Graves had been handcuffed, the shackles hanging around a large wooden bar that gave support to probably at least twenty percent of this old structure. It's not like he cares about that. Not at all. Metal shackles against rotting wood. In just a few rubs before the wood would give in and break so he could escape.

Gellert Grindelwald wasn't one to underestimate, yet this seemed like a piece of cake for Graves. It was just too simple to be true, but he didn't take any second thoughts either. Grindelwald had hurt him in many ways, leaving permanent scars on both his mind and body. It scared Graves, who barely slept anymore. Pain and nightmares kept him awake, every night again. This had to stop. He'd make it stop.

The metal of the rusty shackles rustled against the rotting wood of the pillar as Graves scrubbed his ties over the substance. His arms hurt to the point where it felt like they were burning, but he had to ignore it and continue. He groaned and bit back the searing pain he felt in his left shoulder, the one Grindelwald once had dislocated during the evening of torture that had followed right after his very first attempt at escaping. Thinking about that only made Graves move faster. His bare feet rustled in the dirt and hay that laid underneath him as he continued scratching.

Graves could see the small, blinking eyes of rats watching him from the shadows as he groaned, leaning forward to put more pressure on the work he was delivering on the old wood behind his back. The animals gave small squeaks and disappeared with quiet rustles only moments before he heard a loud snap behind him. Graves doubled forward, nearly hitting his face into the dirt where his feet had been only moments ago. He wanted to curl up and groan in pain, perhaps even stay there, but there was no time for that - unless he wanted to end up buried alive under the debris that was falling down from above. For a split moment, it did sound tempting, but he had not spent his last two days scrubbing his handcuffs against this wood to die in such a stupid way.

It hurt a terrible lot to move his body out of the danger zone as part of the roof came tumbling down on him. Graves had managed to throw and roll himself out of reach. He thought...

A large bar had fallen down on his left leg, leaving a large cut with the sharp end where it'd been broken in half. His pants were torn and soon, his own blood mixed with the other dirt that stuck to the fabric. He scowled, a single profanity making it past his lips while Percival curled up with a grunt. He wanted to touch the wound and examine it - that shit hurt! - but he was still stuck with his hands cuffed together behind his back. The chain was long enough for him to pull his legs through it to have his hands up front, but that would require so much effort, energy and terrible pain from Graves and those were exactly three things he could miss the most right now.

Time was limited, but it didn't matter to Graves. He knew that he'd get further away from this hellhole if he took a brief moment for himself to let most of the pain fade down. It'd take time, but it'll do him good and it'd be worth the grunts and groans that came along with nearly every deep breath he took. It was not only his fresh wound that hurt, it was nearly every inch of his body that hurt. Grindelwald was the one to blame.

It couldn't have been longer than twelve hours ago since Gellert Grindelwald last had his way with Percival Graves. It hadn't left many unharmed spots on the auror's skin. If his captor hadn't harmed him through rape, he'd end up hurt in that certain spot through a beating. Grindelwald's punishments - or as he'd like to call them, moments of stress relief after a long day at work - always came in couples. It had to hurt enough to knock Graves off his feet for as long as he wasn't around to keep his prisoner in check. Grindelwald knew well enough that Graves would try to escape, so he had his ways of preventing that from happening. Rape and violent beatings were only two of them.

Graves didn't figure out the other consequences yet. He hoped there weren't any, and if there were, he just hoped that they weren't as terrible as what he'd been put through before.

_Stop thinking about it, Percival._

Time had passed and the pain seemed to have went with it. Graves felt like he was in a suitable position to continue his escape plan. He attempted to curl up his legs, forming his body in a ball that should be small enough to pull the shackles underneath his feet so he could at least have his hands up front, making it much easier for him to engage in any action he'll need in the future.

It hurt more than he'd expected when Graves shifted on the floor to fix his ties, but there was no way back now. He'll have to get out of this place before Grindelwald returns. If he were to be found now, like this, in the process of an escape, hell would certainly break loose.

Graves grunted and growled as he crawled himself a way to the nearest obstacle that could help him pull himself back on his feet. He had a hurting leg, the blood on the wound still wet but cold, that would bother him from now on, but really... There was no way back any longer. If this were to cost him a leg, then so it be. It wouldn't be worse than any of what Grindelwald had in mind with him in the slightest bit!

Eventually, Graves had found an old working table, one that looked like it could fall apart when you just looked at it. Luckily, it didn't. He latched out his hands, trying to get a grip of the wood. It required Graves to stretch his entire back with a painful groan to get there. Greasy strands of hair were making the experience just more uncomfortable as they stung in his eyes. His entire body was shaking as Graves tried to pull himself back on his feet. He'd anticipated and put most of his weight on his shaky, right leg, the one that didn't get hurt earlier. Once back on his feet, Percival shook his head to get rid of the hair in his eyes. He felt dizzy for a moment and hummed softly. His hands clung onto the wood.

_Just wait. Then proceed._

Once certain and confident of his own capacities for the moment being, Graves tried his first attempts at stepping. He'd expected it to be worse, having an injured leg. It was just a cut after all, nothing exactly extremely deep that could cause permanent damage. It only stung like a hundred of thorns at once when he tried to lean onto his leg for the brief, quick flinch he made each time he moved a step.

Reaching the only door in this crappy shed took him way less time than he'd imagined and Graves nearly smiled when he grabbed the handle and shoved the crooked, crappy door out of his way.

Perhaps, that wasn't a good idea.

There was a loud electric buzz and a brief, bright blue flash. Graves hadn't seen any of that. All he got to see were the insides of this shed from a whole different angle. He exclaimed a shriek of utter surprise and confusion as he flew through the building, into the snowy landscapes the dark world outside the shed had to offer him. His body hit the floor with a thud, landing in a large bed of snow. His spine felt like it had been cut in half with a broadsword and Graves wanted to scream and squirm as agonizing pain terrorised every nerve in his body. He couldn't even move. It all hurt so much. His eyes were set on the starry sky above him, snowflakes raining down on his body and sticking to his greasy hair. He coughed, and even that seemed to hurt like hell. Even breathing suddenly seemed to hurt.

_Stupid moron. Of course that door would carry a spell. How stupid can you be?_

Grindelwald must've put a spell on the door to keep Graves inside the shed if it were to happen he breaks free from his bonds, which had sort of happened this time. No one else but Grindelwald himself could touch the wooden door and leave the shed. Those who tried, would be launched back inside the shed, away from the door. Pure luck had wanted that Percival Graves launched himself through the hole he'd created earlier by breaking down one of the pillars that offered support to this old, wooden construction.

The pain that radiated through his body only lasted for as long as it was there in its most apparent manner. As soon as it had begun to fade, the cold of the snow seemed to come through and Graves became aware of his greasy, torn and dirty white shirt being wet on the back. His pants were also soaking and he didn't even look, but just assumed the snow under his left leg was colouring pink. The wound had started hurting again, possibly due to the hit. It wasn't the only cut that seemed to be bleeding on his body. Graves could feel many spots underneath his clothes heat up and leaving damp stains on fabric that once fitted him well, but now seemed to be a size too big on a body that lacked decent nutrition.

He kept gazing at the stars, not feeling like he would be able to get up anytime soon. His body still ached too much. Graves gave a small sigh, his mind wandering off to places other than the cold bed of snow underneath him.

_"Nothing will happen to you if you comply, Percival."_  
"I'd rather die."  
"That's not an option, I'm afraid."  
"Make it one."  
"I'm afraid I can't do that. I need you, Percival. As long as my plan hasn't succeeded...I'll have to keep you alive."  
"Piss off." 

He should've just said yes and let Gellert Grindelwald do what he first had in mind. It wouldn't have cause any harm upon Percival Graves as a person, but it still would've caused trouble for the wizarding world and MACUSA in specific. Graves couldn't let that happen and if he thought sacrificing his own body, his own demureness, would make a change... He was wrong. In the end, all he had left were bruises, blood on his thighs, shame and twice as much pleasure for the criminal that is Gellert Grindelwald.

It lasted for so long. Too long. Graves couldn't tell if it had been an hour or even longer. Grindelwald just kept going like a wolf in his rut. It hurt and by the end of the day, Graves had seen this man, this ugly creatures, in many ways he wished he hadn't.

A loud cough disturbed the silence. His body flinched in the snow and Graves widened his eyes. Vivid images were threatening to come back to him, things he'd rather not remember. His eyes met with the stars above him again and he let go a gentle sigh of relief. It wasn't real, but he didn't want any of it to be repeated either. He could still hear Grindelwald's words ringing in his ears.

_"I only want to do this once to you, Percival. No matter how pretty you are. Only once, to set a clear message. Don't let it happen again."_

_Don't let it happen again._

Something rustled in the bushes nearby and Graves turned his head to look around. No one. Nothing. It must've been a shy animal that went back into hiding in the darkness of the large forest that surrounded the abandoned mansion Gellert Grindelwald had claimed as his own. It was Percival's cue to resume what he was doing: escaping.

He groaned again, this time in utter pain. Graves tried to sit up, rolling to his side so he could try and help himself up with his hands. If he had enough strength, he wouldn't need his arms to sit up, but having not had a decent meal in days, he couldn't. His palms clung onto the snow, not to search for support, but because he was feeling a certain kind of frustration and helplessness. He was all alone in this, weak and miserable. There was no one nearby who would help him and escaping meant he'll have to get through that forest, all alone in the cold darkness of the night and maybe the following day...and hopefully not the night after this one, or the day that would follow after that one.

Once sitting up, cold snow still teasing his ass while the cold wind that brushed against his back made him shiver, Graves tried to move a step further. He had to get back on his feet, which would be a whole new challenge. For a moment, he thought it'd be impossible to get any further than a seated position. The snow underneath him had turned pink as a cut on his back had opened again. Graves hadn't noticed it hurting. The cold of the snow must've masked the feeling.

Graves had sustained many wounds during his imprisonment. Some of them had started bleeding after the fall, but they didn't form a reason to stay there, lying in the snow and perhaps even risking his life if he didn't get out of there soon enough. If the cold wouldn't take him, Gellert Grindelwald certainly would - or he'd at least make Graves wish he were dead.

Sharp, frozen branches, leaves and small plants cut his bare, cold feet as he ran, other branches and leaves striking him in the face whenever Graves couldn't push them out of the way fast enough. The little cuts brought a new colour to his feet, which had turned the ugliest shade of blue and purple he's ever seen long ago. They hurt so much he couldn't even feel it anymore. The agonising cold had numbed his feet and none of the sharp ends he would step on as he ran and stumbled would be noticed by Percival, whose cold, hasty breaths terrorized his lungs at every gasp and breath he tried to take. It shot through his body like a broadsword, stabbing him through his chest, over and over again. He couldn't stop. Not now.

The forest seemed endless and dark. Graves felt as if he were crying, feeling warm streams run down his cold cheeks. However, his eyes weren't tearing up. It was the blood of branches that had cut him that trailed down his face, turning cold and dry within seconds and leaving a new shade of disaster on his malnourished, cold and pale appearance. He couldn't even sweat. It was too cold to be sweating, not even with a heartbeat that went so fast it felt like his heart could easily jump right out of his tight chest.

_Keep running, Percival. Keep running! ___

He wanted to tell himself that he must be there soon, that there would soon be an end to this forest. He didn't know how long he's been running for now, and how fast he went. He couldn't tell where he was headed or how far he had gotten away from the mansion. He was too cold to be thinking about this. His mind was set on the basics: running, running and keep doing so until he either found a place to hide, or any sign of human life that wasn't Gellert Grindelwald.

A shriek disturbed the silence in the vast, dark forest. A single bird flew off, not wanting to deal with the further rustling of a body stumbling down a steep end. Percival hadn't seen it coming. A branch had hit him in the face only moments ago and his head was still spinning. The darkness of the forest wouldn't even have let him prepare for the fall even without the hit.

He fell forward, his body doubling together and his own knee hitting him in the sternum. It caught on his lungs and he wanted to gasp when his brief fall came to a halt with his body hitting the bottom of the steep end with a thud. He couldn't do so. His chest felt tight, as if it were blocked by the hit he'd received from his own leg.

He laid on his back, an uncomfortable root of a tree poking at his lower back. Percival rose his arms helplessly, rather in a reaction to his discomfort than anything else. He groaned and squinted his eyes shut. The pain that radiated through his entire body was unbearable. He wasn't able to continue. At least, that's what it felt like. It hurt too much and just like so many times before since Gellert Grindelwald had appeared in his life, Percival Graves seems to have made just another terrible decision that could easily lead him to worse ends.

It had only happened once, as Grindelwald said, that he had been submitted to sexual violence involving his captor. However, Gellert was fond of other sorts of violence, or he made it seem like he was. Percival had had his fair share of beatings during his time in that damned shed. Every now and then, a weapon would be involved. Grindelwald owned a dagger, one shining bright and seemingly of certain value. Probably a family heritage Grindelwald doesn't know how to respect other than by cutting Graves' skin with it.

One day, it must've been about three weeks ago by now, Grindelwald had exposed his prisoner to a whole new kind of torture. It was a sick way of telling Graves who he now belonged to. For the rest of his days, Percival would be carrying the mark of his captor and abuser, a burnt insignia on his left side, right above his hip, where the waistband of his pants couldn't reach it just yet.

Percival almost gagged as he laid there, in the snow, remembering how Grindelwald had pushed the glowing hot, metal bar right against his skin, burning the flesh right underneath until it started swelling and bleeding, leaving a nasty wound and an even uglier scar afterwards. He winced when he could clearly recall Gellert's words from back when it had happened.

_"Even if you manage to slip from my hands now, Percival, you will forever be reminded of whose bitch you once were."_

_Not yours. Not anymore._

Pain seemed to try and burn him up from the inside as Graves put every single muscle in his body in action to get back on his feet. It hurt and he cried out, keeping the scream going until he stood on his shaking legs.

His body had worked in an automatic reflex rather than controlled movements all this time. The cold hadn't let him decide anything and so far, only his legs had carried Graves to where he was for now. They no longer seemed to think the same, disagreeing with his head, which wanted to continue. He wanted to run and escapes, but his legs were too heavy and Percival stumbled forward with a grunt and a gasp as he fell again, this time flat on his stomach. He gasped for breath again, snow fanning away from his nose and mouth as he exhaled briefly. His breath was unsteady, anxious. His heart was making things worse for Percival, who could miss a panic attack like a tooth ache right now.

This was the first time since his escape for Graves to be sweating. It was cold, anxious sweat and his body was shivering and shaking harder than before. It wasn't just the cold that was playing with him any longer. Anxiety had joined in. He rolled onto his side, craving warmth as he curled up. It wouldn't bring much, seeing that every inch of his body was equally as cold and terrorized by an unhealthy pale shade that could turn into purple or blue any moment. The tears that ran down his face, sobs making his entire body stir, didn't need long before they dried up, sticking to his skin with a slightly uncomfortable sting.

He was about to die, right? There was no way out of here, this threatening cold hellhole. His body refused to move, other than flinch and shiver as his mind continued bringing back the absolute worst memories about his stay in the shed. Maybe he should've just stayed there. Perhaps there would've been a day where Gellert Grindelwald would return his shoes, coat and scarf and let him go back home and back to work at MACUSA, but with the only difference that there would be a new man in power.

His cry was as cold as the weather and the night. It was desperate, but also empty and useless. What were the chances of anything or anyone being here, in the middle of nowhere, to help him - to save him?

It felt so much better to think about giving up rather than spending the energy he no longer had to continue running and getting further away from the mansion. If Grindelwald finds him here, then so it be. He will live, but wish he had died in the snow. If he dies here, then perhaps, that would be best for everyone. If he died right here, in the snow, Grindelwald would no longer get the chance to hurt him and his plans would most likely end up failing. The wizarding world would end up benefiting from this situation and he'd end up being one of many who sacrificed himself for a greater good.

That sounded fair. Percival Graves felt like he could live with that.

A silence took over. His body laid still in the cold snow, cuffed hands underneath his chest and head resting in the white bottom on the side of his face. Percival had closed his eyes and his thoughts faded, turning into a blur. The longer he laid there, the more of his senses seemed to go numb, fading and making this terrible experience less memorable. Perhaps, the only thing about Percival Graves that hadn't given up yet was his heartbeat, but only faith knows how long that one will last...


End file.
